Happy New Year
by bunnytales
Summary: Belated New Year fic.
1. Chapter 1

Note: Sorry for the long absence. It couldn't be helped. I haven't had access to my files for a month, so I've been unable to finish the last chapter of my other ongoing story...but I was able to put together something belated for New Year's in the meantime. I'll get back to the other one this week and finish it.

Happy New Year (1/2)

She pushed the door open and stood staring into her dim apartment. Hallway light slipped past her to hit the small tree on its table. Silver needles and ornaments glittered. One hand resting on the doorframe, she looked at each bauble in turn.

Water dripped from her umbrella and made a growing dark stain in the pale rug. The switch was at her fingertips but she did not turn on the light.

Through the living room window came more light, muted, in all the season's best colours. Red, gold, green. It rose up from street-level shops and restaurants and washed into the apartments above.

It could be special, this time of year. Christmas was over; the ball had dropped; the champagne bottles sat empty in recycling bins. Everyone was back to their homes and lives, and soon the trees would be put out or boxed away and the lights would come down, and the streets would return to their plainer selves. When January snow fell thick and made the world so bright and silent, or even when cold rains pounded the city until it hunched into itself, there was time to think after all the revelry. There was time to reflect, to consider, to plan. She'd found last January a time of optimism, renewal.

But 3 days after the bash at Times Square her neighbours' balconies were all still lit, and the hotels hadn't yet abandoned their holiday cheer. They were still within the 12 days, so people could grasp the last of Christmas and hold it close for a bit. They were still dancing, still remembering those carols, still finishing the leftovers and fingering the tinsel and enjoying the gifts. For most people this was a time to savour; it was easy. Even back at the office the coloured lights had shone and cubicles had been decorated with tacky stick-on snowflakes.

Of course it had been easy for them—

No. _No_ , her inner voice chastised. She felt her face flush with shame as she thought of her colleagues. Deakins' sharp eyes had been soft and sad as she'd finally ordered them home. Mike had left to finally see his boys and his parents but had been joyless, his face anguished. No, it hadn't been easy for anyone. Not there under the fluorescent lighting of the bullpen. Not there in the eccentric nooks of the Archive. Not there in his empty apartment and nowhere in the bright-lit streets and all the places they'd searched, frantic. There was no easy.

 _God_ those lights. She scowled at the delicate sheers she'd put up 2 summers back. _Let more light in_ , she'd thought. _Let the city's life in._ Where were those old solid blinds that blocked out the glare? Where had she put them?

Her fingers played over the light switch. She was cold and wet. Her bones ached. She could go inside and close the door. There were bottles in the pantry. She could curl under a blanket on the sofa and drink, and be warm. She leaned more heavily on the doorframe.

Buzzing. She blinked and took a breath, and her hand fished automatically into a pocket for her phone. It was Mike. "Yeah," she said.

"Kay, I was thinking."

"About?"

"The old building on Essex."

She mentally ran through their path, ticking off locations. "There are a lot of old buildings down there," she said.

"Yeah. But there's only one next to a high-end museum that's about to display priceless jewels."

"What?"

"Something I read while I was pondering things that bugged me."

"Things that bugged you."

"Yeah."

She sighed and her body seemed to decide it was time to move. Flicking on the lights and closing the door, she dropped her umbrella into the stand and started shrugging off her coat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mike," she admitted.

A rustle on the line. She could almost see Mike shift in his chair as he pulled up information on his laptop. Jazz played softly in the background and she felt sadness wash over her again. "You know, you're supposed to be spending time with your family."

There was silence for a moment and then the click of keys. "Yeah," Mike sighed. "But he's family too."

"Okay. What have you got?"

"Maybe nothing. But that guy bugged me."

"The…security guard?"

"Yeah, him."

"What about him?"

"First of all, he's probably the most oblivious private security I've ever run into. NYPD's gunshot detection picks up a shot on that block, within 20 feet of that very building, and he hears nothing?"

Kay shrugged though her partner couldn't see her. "He makes minimum wage to sit in a lobby all day. It probably doesn't attract the best talent."

"Okay, but why'd the building need a security guard, anyway? It's an old apartment block. He said it was empty."

She sank into the couch, searching her memory. "He said something about vandalism, rocks through the windows, right?"

"Right. But I can't see why anyone would care. The building is slated for demolition. Most of the block is."

"Redevelopment."

"AKA gentrification. And the Hyler Museum is a perfect example, right next door. Grand opening this Sunday."

"What are these jewels you're talking about?"

"A private collection including a dozen jewels by JAR. The last major JAR auction brought in over $11 million."

"That's a pretty big exhibit for a small museum."

"It is," Mike agreed. "And it's only open for a limited time."

"Huh," she said, the wheels turning. She felt suddenly recharged and ready to move. "So a condemned building is being guarded, and it happens to sit next to this new museum. It's pretty thin, Mike."

"Agreed, but something else occurred to me."

"What?"

"Remember we were asking him if he'd seen anything in the street, any strange vehicles…."

"Yeah, and we covered that. He hadn't been outside in hours."

"Because he was inside on his cell phone, making New Year's plans with his girlfriend."

"Right."

"On his cell phone, Kay."

She sat up. "The signal."

"I couldn't get more than one bar when we were parked out front. Those old brick and stone buildings are hellish on cell reception. And it would have been even worse inside."

Oh. _Oh._ Her brain scrabbled to rationalize it. "Maybe he was on a landline?"

"Not in that building. Phone company disconnected service last month. I checked."

Kay was on her feet and striding to the door before Mike had finished speaking. "He couldn't have been on a call," she concluded. "But why would he lie?"

"What I was thinking. It could have nothing to do with Cameron."

"It could," Kay admitted. "But Cameron's car was parked barely a block away, and the GPS puts him there at the right time." She sighed. "Plus…."

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "Trouble magnet."

Closing the door behind her, Kay stood in the corridor again, blinking. "Mike, your kids have hardly seen you this Christmas."

Mike was obviously up and heading out; she heard the jingle of keys. "I know," he said. "But my parents are with them and they're okay. Let's go shake this tree."

….

They met at the office and called Deakins with an update, then took Mike's car. Federal Plaza's contemporary towers and wide streets fell away behind them and they passed into the Lower East Side, where trendy bars, boutiques and hotels crowded against gritty tenements and small family businesses. The neighbourhood, traditionally working class, was undergoing rapid change.

Kay eyed the old brick buildings, trying to orient herself as Mike turned down a quiet, tree-lined avenue. "Cameron's car was a block from here, wasn't it?"

"Yeah…uh, east of here." Mike checked the GPS screen and shook his head, then made another left to avoid construction. "Okay. Essex is up on the right."

"And –" she fished out her phone to check as he turned down the street – "almost no cell signal." She thought of the last time they'd been there. "Hey, maybe that's it."

"What?"

"Gunther said Cameron was coming to see a supplier for a New Year's Eve 'surprise' but never made it. Maybe he got detoured by the construction too. This neighbourhood can be like a maze."

"You think he got lost?"

"Well, we did. Remember driving around the same few blocks trying to get back to the main street?"

Mike pulled over to the curb and parked. "It makes sense. His GPS wouldn't have been much help with all the construction closures. Ours was pretty much useless. And he wouldn't have been able to get service to call anyone."

"So maybe he stopped for directions." Kay pushed open the passenger door and winced as a blast of icy wind swept through the car. Hunching into her coat, she circled around to the sidewalk. The building was just ahead. Beyond it, the Hyler Museum's massive windows gleamed under gassy street lights. It had replaced a geriatric tenement; more of the block would fall next to make way for shiny new condos, clubs, boutiques. Kay wondered where all the residents of those old buildings had gone. "This place looks empty."

"Yeah," Mike agreed, heading for the stairs. "If you hadn't spotted the lights inside last time, we'd have thought it was empty too." He tried the door, found it locked, and rang the manager's bell. They waited in the cold. Perhaps Cameron had come this way, to this very spot, to ask for a map, a landline, information.

Movement inside, the door opened and both agents flashed their credentials. The man who greeted them wore an inexpensive dark suit and a wary expression. Keys hung from his belt loop, jingling when he moved.

"Good evening," Kay said, not waiting for him to speak. "Special Agent Kay Daniels, and this is Special Agent Mike Alvarez. It's Gary, right?"

The man nodded. "Yeah. You were here a few days ago."

"We were. May we come in?"

"Um, yeah, please. Yeah, get outta the cold." They entered the lobby, noting fretwork panels, carved mouldings and the open mezzanine level with its dark wood balustrade. The building may never have been luxurious but it had probably leaned toward elegant, and decades later it still held onto some faded dignity. The heat was off but ceiling lights burned, casting an almost funereal glow over the space.

"They've kept the power on, at least," Mike commented.

"Yeah," Gary chuckled. "I think they may have forgot to cut it, but I'm not complaining." He looked from one to the other. "So, uh…you were here before about that shot someone heard. You were looking for someone, right?"

"Yes," Kay replied, pulling out the photo again. "This man was in the neighbourhood December 31st and we're just retracing his steps."

Gary's eyes lingered on the picture for a moment before cutting away. "Yeah, I didn't see that guy. I didn't see any guy, actually. Usually I'm pretty much by my lonesome here." He shrugged and grinned. "Just me and the roaches, I guess. And my heater, thank goodness."

"This is kind of a strange posting, isn't it?" Mike said, wandering over to get a closer look at the vintage wood panelling. He turned and took in the lobby. "I mean, it's an empty building. The last holdout tenants moved on a couple months ago, and now it's set for demolition."

Another shrug. "I can't say," Gary demurred. "I go where they send me, right?"

Kay raised an eyebrow at Mike. "And you never heard the gunshot."

"No, can't say I did. Are you sure there really was a gunshot?"

"Oh yes," Kay nodded. "It was actually picked up by the NYPD's software and tracked to this street, right out front."

"You don't say. That's pretty cool. But like I said last time, Agents…I didn't hear it."

Mike resumed his slow stroll around the lobby, studying the woodwork. Gary's eyes tracked him, flicked to Kay for a moment and then back to Mike.

"So how long have you worked here, Gary?" Kay asked, drawing his attention.

"Um, a couple weeks now. Pretty dull job."

"Who's your employer?"

"Paragon Development."

"They own the building?"

"Yeah."

A creak from the far side of the lobby drew both their looks. Mike had a door half open and was peering into the darkness behind it. He turned to face them. "So what's this?"

Kay felt Gary's stress levels ratchet up. "What is it, Mike?" she called.

"Stairway down. I guess to the basement, the boiler room, right? Looks like they've got lights down there, too. We saw them from outside, remember?"

"I love those street-level windows," Kay replied.

"Yeah, that's the basement," Gary said. He took a step toward Mike and then stopped. "I-uh…keep that door closed. You know, rats."

"Rats," Mike echoed.

Gary nodded and shuddered for effect. "We've had problems."

"I can imagine," Mike said gravely. "Rats."

"Exactly," Gary said.

Kay felt her instincts kick into high gear. Her hand rested near her weapon; she was ready for anything. Gary looked like he wanted nothing more than to toss them both out, but he kept that folksy grin plastered on his face like a mask.

"So can I see the basement?" Mike asked, leaning in a bit further to peer down the dark stairs. He telegraphed ease and idle curiosity but Kay could see in the way he moved that he was on alert. She waited.

For a moment Gary hesitated and the grin slipped a fraction, and then he shrugged again. "Suit yourself." He strode to the door and reached inside to flip a switch. A bare yellow bulb at the ceiling sputtered briefly but stayed lit.

"Thanks, man," Mike smiled. "You want to show us the way?"

Kay joined them, feeling the strange combination of tension and calm that came when she knew a situation could very soon go pear-shaped. She was vigilant and her muscles were ready, but her brain had gone quiet. The roiling thoughts – her unease, her sick growing dread over Cameron's fate – had stilled and left her with certainty born out of training and long experience. She had this. They had this.

Gary had gone quiet too, descending the stairs with what seemed like resignation. Mike was behind him, Kay trailing, their shadows lurching down the wall.

And then it went pear-shaped, fast.

….

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Happy New Year (2/2)

They waited and paced, sat, flipped through magazines and paced again. Dina perched herself on the well-worn couch and started cleaning out her purse. Jordan scrolled through texts on his phone. Gunther wandered out toward the nurses' station and back again, over to the sad little vinyl Christmas tree at the outer corner of their waiting room. Mike called his parents to check in on the boys. He looked so worn.

Kay studied them all, then stared down the corridor at closed double doors. She checked her watch – they'd been there for hours. Deakins had come, stayed long enough to hear the story and then gone back to the office.

The tree really was sad. It was like the little tree in that Christmas special, the one sitting alone amidst bigger and brighter trees. It was the one that just needed help….

She rubbed her eyes and breathed, and caught Mike watching her. Damn it. They'd almost been too late. Maybe they had been too late, maybe—

One of the doors swung open and a tidy woman emerged. She wore scrubs and walked with purpose, looking neither left nor right. She passed the Christmas tree without a glance and stopped at the waiting room edge. "Family of Cameron Black?" she asked, though she knew they were there for him.

….

Kay eased into the room, the rest of them at her back, and was immediately relieved. "Hey," she said. "I thought you'd be sleeping."

Cameron had the bed raised so he could sit up, propped on several pillows. He shifted and winced, then returned her smile. "Nah. I think I actually slept quite a lot there."

"Well, you do look better than when we found you." Running her eyes over him, she reassured herself. He seemed alert and focussed, and his colour was improved.

"We're so glad you're okay," Dina exclaimed, moving around the bed for a closer look at him. She patted his knee gently and settled into a chair.

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "We've been pretty worried."

A bit sheepish, Cameron smiled again. "Some 'New Year's surprise,' huh?" Sobering, he looked at Kay. "So what happened? How did you guys find me?"

The adrenaline and stress were gone and the exhilaration of finding him alive was slowly bleeding away. Kay felt exhaustion crashing back into her, like a tide coming in. When she pulled up an empty chair and sat, she felt Cameron watching her. "You first," she countered. "If you're feeling well enough."

"Yeah," he nodded. "It's a bit of a story…."

"Listen up," Gunther put in as he tossed his jacket onto the windowsill. "We've been crawling up the walls for days now, wondering what grand idiocy you wandered into. We've got the time."

...

New Year's Eve:

He turned left down an alley, hoping the GPS would give him usable directions sometime soon. Simon's storage unit was supposed to be down one of the narrower lanes, but there was no real address attached to it and the directions were confusing. Why this guy had to operate out of a garage was beyond him. But he'd heard that Simon had some sort of boring day job, so maybe it wasn't worth renting commercial space for what was basically a side business.

Or maybe Simon didn't have his license and was paranoid about the ATF swooping in and carting him off to jail.

There was activity ahead, a truck being unloaded behind a derelict apartment block. Cameron slowed and eased around the vehicle. Men were moving in equipment. As he watched, two of them began carefully guiding a cart down to the building's rear doors. It looked like a heavy-duty coring drill, a smaller version of one he'd seen being used to renovate a Midtown parkade. That thing had gone through concrete like nobody's business.

It was curious, them working on New Year's Eve. Cameron studied them, intrigued, until one of the workers noticed him. The man motioned to one of his companions, pointed at the car and gave him a look that said _move along_. He moved along.

Another detour. Turning off the now irritating GPS voice, Cameron eyed prewar architecture on either side. This was a quiet, aged neighbourhood. He'd been down three years back with Gunther, and he struggled to remember the lay of the land. But that last trip had been in late summer and the streets had been alive. The air had shimmered with heat and mosquitos, dazzling them as it bounced off pavement. Doors had been open, kids chasing soccer balls, residents walking their dogs and carrying their groceries.

Even then there'd been hints of what was to come, though. Apartments weren't renting – all the buildings had vacancies. Developers were moving in and waving cash around, and landlords were taking heed.

Now, it looked like some kind of creeping affliction had driven all the working class families and retirees away. Entire blocks had been taken down and rebuilt. Modern, flashier condos had risen up, along with trendy cafes and organic markets. Cameron remembered seeing children play baseball in a grimy and graffiti-covered lot, laughing. The new cultured greenway that bordered these streets was filled with ornamental trees and looked too pretty for kids to play on.

He sighed heavily and pulled over, fishing out his phone. Gunther could steer him in the right direction….

Or would have been able to if given a chance. No service. Sighing again, he got out of the car and took a look around. It was frigid, exhilarating, but he wasn't dressed for the weather. The sensible thing would be to give up on his little mission and go home empty-handed to enjoy a nice brandy with his friends. Kay would probably make it over for a bit, maybe Mike as well. They could raise a glass as the ball dropped.

But since when had he been about sensible things.

….

"Wait a second," Jordan said. Everyone looked at him. "Does the ATF really go after people for fireworks?"

Kay raised an eyebrow. " _That's_ what you got stuck on?"

….

He crossed an empty street and walked past the museum, not yet open. It had been featured in _NYsCene,_ with a big glossy article about progress and revitalization. He had to admit it was attractive, angular and yet sleek. Banners hung in the massive front windows, announcing its debut exhibit. If the pictures were any indication it was aiming for the elusive intersection between post-modernism and vulgar wealth.

The apartment building next door was empty…wait. No, it wasn't. His natural sense of direction kicked in and he remembered the laneway behind these properties. That was where he'd seen the men unloading their truck. So maybe the building had people in it after all, at least a few workers who might be able to help him out. He bounded up the steps and knocked loudly, then rang the bell for good measure. Maybe one of them would just happen to know where Simon the pyro guy lived. When the door opened he was pretty optimistic that this frustrating little jaunt could be salvaged.

It wasn't long before he realized things were very, very wrong.

….

Kay leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Cameron, I know I told you to go first, but you don't need to relive this right now if you're tired or you don't want to talk about it."

"No," Cameron said quietly. "I'm fine, really. And you're going to need to hear all the gory details sooner or later, right?"

Dina frowned, alarmed. "Gory?"

….

"Hi," Cameron greeted brightly. "I'm so glad I found you. I'm lost, trying to call a friend for directions."

"Lost," the man echoed. He loomed in the doorway, filling it with his bulk. His eyes were hooded and set far apart, giving his face an almost avian look. He looked Cameron up and down and then looked past him toward the sidewalk. "You drive here?"

Cameron pointed a thumb vaguely back over his shoulder. "Uh, yeah. Left my car on the other street."

"What you want?"

"A phone, if you've got one."

"We don't, sorry."

"We?" Cameron remembered his curiosity. "So…you guys doing work in here?"

"Looks like." The man stared at him.

Cameron nodded. "Okay," he sighed. "Thanks anyway. Hey…Happy New Year."

"Yeah you too."

As the man turned to close the door, his jacket fell open and Cameron spied the now familiar shape of a handgun tucked in his belt. He saw it for only an instant but it was enough – his eyes darted back up to the man's face and they both knew.

….

There was a full water pitcher on the bedside table; Mike poured a glass and handed it to Cameron. "Drink," he ordered. "Doc said you were dehydrated."

"Thanks."

"That must have been terrifying," Dina said.

Cameron tilted his head. "Yes…and no."

….

Fight or flight kicked in and he was down the stairs, hitting the pavement with no thought but to get back to his car and the hell outta Dodge. The shot startled him enough that he didn't immediately notice anything besides the sound. But then the voice barked _Stop_ and he did, and there was pain in his arm. A flesh wound – he clamped his hand over it and turned back to face the threat.

The guy, all pretence gone, wrapped thick fingers around his good arm and hauled him back up the stairs into the lobby of the old apartment. He heard thudding, footsteps on stairs, and two panting men appeared from a doorway by the attendant's desk.

"What the hell happened?" the one demanded. He gaped at Cameron, then at the thug holding Cameron. "You shot somebody, you bloody—"

"Hey," the thug barked, "I did what I had to, didn't I? He saw the gun."

"About that," Cameron interjected. "I really don't think that matters. Lots of people carry these days, you know? Who cares?" He tried to appear relaxed and not squirm in the meaty grip. The best he could manage was an insouciant grin and half a shrug.

"Shut up," the thug growled, shaking Cameron to make his point.

A younger man emerged from behind the other two. "Okay, okay," he said. "We get it. But this is bad." He glanced briefly at Cameron and then back at the others.

Cameron looked from one to the next. There were four of them. The bird-eyed one still gripping his bicep was a hulking older man who looked like a solid mass of muscle covered by fat. The rest ranged in age, mid to late thirties. He wondered what the hell he'd wandered into. They had to be working down below – one had safety glasses pushed up on his forehead. Drilling in the basement?

"I didn't sign up for shooting anybody." The one nearest the doorway pointed his finger at the younger man. "Your idiot uncle brought the gun – you fix this."

That didn't land well and Cameron felt himself dragged several feet as the idiot uncle lunged at Mr. Safety Glasses. "You little pissant," the older man raged, stopping only when his nephew stepped in front of him again.

"Okay! Everyone's calming down now." Nephew turned to the two by the door. "You might as well get back to it. The sooner we're done, the sooner we're gone."

"And what about him?" demanded the pissant.

"You could just let me go," Cameron suggested.

"Shut up," repeated the thug.

Nephew sighed. "I'll deal with this. You get back to work."

….

"That was 'Gary,'" Kay confirmed. "He sounds like the brains of the operation."

Cameron smiled. "He never gave me his name, but he was definitely the brains. He kept the rest of them focussed."

"So they were drilling through the wall?" Gunther asked.

"Yup."

"Pretty slow operation," Mike put in. They'd been in that building for _days._ "

Dina sat forward in her chair. "So don't keep us in suspense…what happened next?"

…..

They manhandled him down the stairs, which was the last place he wanted to go. Nephew was surprisingly gentle, repeatedly reminding his uncle that Cameron was hurt and had to be treated with care. Cameron felt like reminding _him_ that his uncle was crazy and armed, but he kept his mouth shut and waited for an opening.

The basement was lit with bare overhead bulbs that cast creepy shadows. It was cold and smelled of dust. Cameron spared a look around, trying not to shiver as the thug pushed him ahead.

"Here," the younger man announced, stopping next to a pile of cast off chairs. He pulled one out and put it against the wall, then motioned for Cameron to sit. "Sorry about this," he said as Cameron complied. "I just need a bit of time to work things out here. Best you not go anywhere before then."

"Understood," Cameron replied, hoping that the chair and the pipe running up the wall behind him meant that handcuffs would be next. A nice easily picked pair of handcuffs.

Hell, he'd take rope if he had to. Getting out of it would be slow with one arm throbbing, but he'd do it and be gone before anyone could decide to put a second bullet in him.

Of course his bad luck had to hold. Nephew disappeared briefly and returned with a handful of zip ties that he waved at his uncle. "Found these in the truck, fortunately." He fastened one around Cameron's good wrist and a second one around the pipe, attaching the two. Once his captive was secure he pulled a cloth from his pocket. "Found this too – looks clean enough." Without further preamble he wrapped it around Cameron's bicep and knotted it, drawing it tight. "Sorry," he said again when Cameron winced and drew in a sharp breath.

They left him then and it got quiet except for the noises coming from the basement's far end. The clank of metal and the occasional curse suggested they were setting up their equipment. No one was watching him but he didn't try to escape. His arm was burning and he felt lightheaded, so he closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, let the cold seep into him, tried to centre himself. He'd worked through injuries before. The zip ties were a problem, but things weren't impossible. He'd rest for a bit and then set his mind to work on it. If something didn't come to him right off, he'd bide his time until an opportunity made itself known.

If all else failed, he'd wait for the cavalry.

….

"So how long did it take them to set up the drill?"

Cameron almost laughed at the eagerness on Gunther's face. "Are you thinking of trying it yourself?" he teased.

Gunther raised his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't I be interested? It's educational – we can call it a case study." Sniffing, he tossed a glance at Jordan. "At least I've got _intellectual curiosity_."

….

Hours seemed to pass in the basement's eternal half-light. Time oozed as sluggishly as the blood seeping through his makeshift bandage, then suddenly skipped ahead: he was dozing off, losing track. He shivered, felt exhaustion overtake him again. The men clanked their metal pieces and talked and then the drill was running, screeching. He slept and woke up thirsty and noticed a bottle of water had been left on the chair beside his.

And someone had covered him with a ratty quilt.

….

"You were feverish by then," Kay said.

….

It was night; he could tell. Again, but when he tried to count the hours, the clumps of hours that made up days, they slithered away from him. He was cold and strangely warm and cold again, sweating through his jacket (Dina always said _dress for the weather_ like what did she think ? it was too strange to think of her as like his mother when she'd been with Johnny and look how _that_ turned out)—

….

"I'm not sure I remember any more."

Mike smiled. "We went down the stairs with Gary, and believe me, we were thinking it could go pear-shaped any minute."

"Did it?" Cameron asked, leaning back to rest.

"Yeah," Kay said.

….

They followed Gary down the stairs. The basement was cold and dim, and Kay felt like she was descending into another world. Mike was ahead of her. One hand was on his hip, close to his weapon.

Near the landing they stopped and looked around. Old metal shelving units were filled with cast-off items from decades past. Stacked boxes seemed to be waiting for someone to unpack them; decrepit laundry carts held rolled up carpets and draperies that had long since gone out of style. Kay could feel the chill seeping into her.

"So, Agents," Gary said, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Is this what you wanted to see?"

Kay stepped off the bottom stair. "Mind if we explore a bit?"

For a moment Gary seemed to hesitate, but then he shrugged and sighed. "Suit yourselves, I guess." He headed off down a narrow aisle between tall shelves. They followed him, Kay leading now and Mike a step behind.

They reached the end of the aisle and Gary was suddenly out of sight. Kay rounded the corner after him and was hit – someone had crashed into her. She hit the floor, heard a solid clank as something metal hit the concrete right beside her head, and rolled instinctively. The wind had been knocked out her lungs; she gasped and recovered quickly, rolled again and made it to her feet. The man who'd tackled her was huge, wielding a piece of rebar. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mike scuffling with someone else, smaller, and she wondered for an instant why the biggest perps always seemed to pick her. But there was no time to ponder that – she rushed him, used her momentum to knock him off balance, planted a foot and took him down. Textbook, kind of.

Mike had the other guy down and in cuffs. "Kay?" he asked.

"I'm good. You?" She reached for her own cuffs, kneeling on the man's back to keep him still. A quick glance around. "Gary's gone."

"Yeah," Mike panted. "He rabbited the second these two jokers came at us."

"I thought I saw a fourth guy."

"I'm pretty sure he took off after Gary. I heard them pounding up the stairs."

Kay strained to hear, but the basement was silent except for their hard breathing. "Okay," she said. "What were these guys up to?" Turning, she peered at the get-up – there was a large hole in the concrete wall, darkness beyond. "Is that supposed to be a… _tunnel_?"

"Come on, get up," Mike grunted, hauling his handcuffed prisoner vertical. He pointed at the hole. "Where does that lead?"

The men looked at each other and then went back to glaring at the dirty floor. Leaving both to be watched by Mike, Kay stepped toward the wall. Her senses were on alert; she felt her earlier tension returning. There was a massive industrial drill on wheels, covered with dust, and dust coated the floor around. She poked her head cautiously into the hole. "Huh," she said.

"What?" Mike called.

Kay backed out, carefully avoiding chunks of concrete, and turned to her partner. "It doesn't lead anywhere," she said. "But it looks like it was going to."

….

Gunther rubbed his hands together. "This is getting good."

….

They led their perps upstairs and out to the car, where they still had no cell service but managed to radio for NYPD assistance. It wasn't ideal, leaving the men alone in the back seat, but the basement was unguarded and who knew where the others had gone? Mike made sure the car was locked and they headed back in.

As they climbed the building's front steps Kay shot a glance to their right. The Hyler Museum rose like a strange post-modern phoenix from the ashes of this depressed street. By her reckoning, the unfinished tunnel was aimed right for it.

….

Kay paused and swirled her nearly empty coffee cup. The brew was cold and greasy now but she swallowed it anyway. Maybe it would go straight into her veins to chase away the exhaustion and that nagging sense of…she couldn't put a name to it.

"So?" Jordan asked impatiently. Gunther clunked knuckles against the side of his head and shot him a silencing look.

….

They entered the lobby with weapons drawn this time and proceeded back down the stairs. For all anyone knew, the escaped men were still in the building.

It looked to be a burglary in progress, a bizarre scheme to tunnel from one basement into another. Kay could think of a thousand reasons why it shouldn't work, why it made no sense. How did they plan to get through the museum's alarm system? How did they even know there was an underground connection between the buildings?

Moving carefully around the perimeter of the space, they shone their flashlights into each shadow, peered behind stacked crates and down each aisle between the shelves. Kay kept her head on a swivel, ready for an ambush.

Oh no. "Mike," she said, holstering her weapon and rushing ahead.

Cameron was in a chair against the wall, one wrist zip-tied to a pipe above him. He looked to be unconscious. His skin was pallid and clammy. "Cameron," Kay urged him, checking for a pulse. Fluttery, erratic. He was covered up to the shoulders with an old quilt; when she pulled it off him she saw the blood soaked through his jacket. His arm had been wrapped; the job looked clumsy.

"He's breathing," Mike said. "Gunshot?"

"Looks like." Kay gently peeled away the edge of the rag. "Probably a through-and-through. He's lost a lot of blood."

Mike nodded, turning back for the stairs. "I'll radio for the medics. You okay here?"

"Yeah." Kay used her pocketknife to cut the zip ties and gently eased Cameron's arm down to his side. There was nothing she could do for him but keep him safe until the ambulance arrived. Drawing her weapon again, she waited and prayed that they were alone, that he would keep breathing, that Mike would _hurry_ and they could all get the hell out of there.

….

"And that's pretty much it," she said. "The paramedics arrived, along with enough NYPD back-up to choke most of the block. The ambulance brought you here. That was…" she checked her watch, "almost eight hours ago."

"Wow," Cameron sighed. "I guess I've lost some time. The last thing I remember, it was probably late New Year's Day. I felt terrible."

Kay nodded. "You were in shock, dehydrated and your wound was infected. The doctor said you're lucky you didn't develop pneumonia."

"The guys were running a portable heater and it warmed up the basement just enough that you didn't freeze to death," Mike added.

Cameron grimaced. "I guess I was lucky. What I don't get is how they came up with a plan like that to begin with."

"They're locals," Kay explained. "They're all in custody now and they've been talking up a storm. Three of them worked construction, but had been unemployed for months. The two younger guys who operated the drill actually grew up in the apartment building that stood where the Hyler Museum is now. Apparently the two buildings were connected underground and the boys spent a lot of time hanging out down there. They figured there still might be access into the museum's basement."

"And they recruited the other two to help them break in?"

"Not quite. Gary actually _was_ the brains behind it all, not that he set the intellectual bar that high." Kay raised an eyebrow. "Our fake security guard was a real security guard on building sites around the area, which is how he met the other two. And after he lost his last job for sleeping on duty, he interviewed to work security at the Hyler. He didn't get hired."

"So he decided to rob them instead."

"Pretty much. He brought his uncle in to provide muscle. The other guys stole the drill and other break-in equipment from their last job site. And after you showed up, Gary figured they needed a cover in case someone else had seen the activity there. So he went back to what he knew – building security. I guess he thought he'd be able to divert further attention."

"Huh," Cameron said. "And they really thought they could get away with it?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe they were fans of _The Bank Job_."

Cameron stared at him.

"Hey, I don't know," Mike laughed. "They seemed to figure it was foolproof."

Kay smiled gently at Mike. "I think 'fool' is pretty fitting, but I'm not sure about the 'proof' part."

"Well, _I'm_ sure they couldn't pull off anything like my man Jason Statham," Gunther said, drawing chuckles from around the room.

Cameron stifled a yawn, which Dina noticed immediately. "Alright," she announced, standing up and reaching for her purse, "visiting hours are over. Come on."

The rest of the team dutifully rose. Mike patted Cameron's good shoulder; Jordan gave him a smile and a quick wave that he returned. Dina leaned in to kiss him. "I'm so relieved," she murmured, patting his cheek gently. Gunther trailed the others. Pausing at the door, he looked Cameron over before finally nodding and walking out.

Kay stood, clutching her coat and the empty coffee cup. "I'm relieved too," she said.

Cameron studied her for a long moment. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Me? I'm not the one who was shot and left bleeding to death in a freezing basement."

"No, but you still look pretty beat."

She nodded, reflecting. "It's been a long few days."

"Sorry about this," Cameron said. "I—"

Raising a hand, Kay cut him off. "Don't you apologize." She pressed her lips together, then shook her head. "Just get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned toward the door.

Using his good arm, Cameron awkwardly propped himself up. "Kay, wait. Are you angry?"

She peered at him. "What? No. I'm not angry."

"Then what?"

"Cameron," she urged, "you need to rest. Lie down."

He held her gaze evenly. "I'll lie down when you tell me what's bugging you."

Kay hesitated, looking out into the hallway. Then she sighed and dropped back into her chair. "What bugs me?" She shrugged, staring off for a moment before looking back at him. "I was right there, Cameron," she said. "We were there the day you went missing, and we left."

Cameron tilted his head at her. "But you came back."

"Yes, because Mike had a nagging feeling."

"And you didn't?"

Kay shrugged again. "A lot of things didn't sit right about that guy. I'm just sorry it took us as long as it did."

"Hey," Cameron grinned tiredly, settling back against the pillows, "I'm sorry I decided to knock on that door."

"You couldn't have known."

"Well, ditto."

Rolling her eyes, Kay relaxed a bit. "You sure are level-headed for a guy who just spent three days zip-tied to a pipe."

"That's me. Unflappable to the end."

It was Kay's turn to yawn. Her whole body was tired; she wanted clean sheets and her pillow. Glancing at the dark window, she blinked. "It's snowing."

"Huh," Cameron replied, looking out. "I've been waiting for that since Christmas."

Kay watched as the swirling flakes seemed to grow fatter and heavier. By morning the city would be covered. The kids would wake up to it; the schools might close. And before the snow ploughs made dirty furrows down every street there would be maybe an hour or two of silence, and all would be bright.

When she looked back at Cameron she found him watching her. He wore a faint smile that she couldn't help but return. "What?" she asked.

"Happy New Year, Kay," he said.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I think it is."

….

End

Note: thanks for reading a really belated holiday fic.


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